A Soft Repose
by Air-Laura
Summary: Based on spoilers for Episode 11, this is what I hope to see happen at the end with Susan/Carter.


Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, blah, etc, etc.  
  
Spoilers/Summary: Based on spoilers for Episode 11, this is what I hope to see happen at the end with Susan/Carter.  
  
Soft Repose  
  
By Laura  
  
I will meet you in some place  
  
Where the light lends itself to soft repose  
  
I will let you undress me  
  
But I warn you, I have thorns like any rose  
  
-Jewel, Break Me  
  
Walking from the parking lot to the entrance to her building, she didn't notice the way the moon cast a blue gleam on the snow-covered ground. She failed to appreciate the quiet beauty, the stillness of the icicles hanging like teardrops from the tree branches. Susan was too caught up in a state of panic: weight pressing down on her chest, heavy and unrelenting. Dry mouth and heat enveloping her skin.  
  
It was all because she couldn't reach him. He had left, and she didn't get a chance to explain, to make sure he was okay. To make myself feel better, she thought. He wouldn't answer the phone, he wouldn't respond to her pages.  
  
If only she knew how alive the pain was, how much power the memory still had over him. You wouldn't know by looking at him, she thought, that he was still scared of the figure in the shadows and the gleam of a steel knife. She didn't want the most powerful reminder of his stabbing and his addictions to take away the man she had come to treasure.  
  
Susan opted for the stairs instead of the elevator - difficult and loud over simple and quiet. The strap of her purse hung diagonally across her chest, and the brown leather sack bounced against her right hip. She reached the top and fumbled for her keys. Her eyes and hands waded through the mess of a small package of tissues, tubes of lipstick and loose change to find the keys.  
  
And then she looked up, facing the long stretch of hallway. Her chest tightened and then her lungs expanded; she finally exhaled. "John."  
  
He was sitting on the floor, knees pointed upward, arms hanging at his sides. His eyes were fixed on her; he had heard her slow, heavy steps. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow. His cheeks were stained a pale pink.  
  
Susan walked quickly down the hall, slowing when she came nearer to him. She knelt down in front of him. She reached out instinctively and pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. "You're burning up," she told him, alarmed.  
  
Carter nodded. He reached up, tugging on the collar of his coat. "I've been sitting here for a while," he told her, casually.  
  
She leaned back, sitting on her legs. "What? For how long?"  
  
He shrugged. "A while." He paused, retracing his steps - the hospital to the El platform to the park to Susan's building. "I walked around for a half hour or so."  
  
She sighed, shaking her head. "I've been trying to find you for hours," she told him. She tentatively placed a hand over his knee, needing to make sure he was real, that he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest touch.  
  
"Right under your nose," Carter said, attempting a smile. He was mostly grateful for the slight grin it earned from Susan. He made the first move, grunting under his breath as he braced his hands on the floor and stood.  
  
She followed, and then stood in silence in front of her door. This should be easier, she thought. Hadn't they already crossed over new and awkward? "Will you come inside?" she asked, biting the inside of her lip; that came out wrong.  
  
Carter nodded, bending down to sweep a scarf and an empty paper cup into his hands. He stood behind her, watching Susan's hand shake while she turned the key in the lock. The door opened and he was warmed by the scent of her home - it made him think of cinnamon and coffee, sleeping in on a rainy day, being wrapped inside the comfort and protection of flannel sheets.  
  
He was so caught up in the smells and their associations that he almost didn't hear her. "You can come in," she said from the middle of the room, waving him inside.  
  
Carter shut the door behind him. He watched her drop her keys on the counter, hang her purse and coat from a hook on the wall and kick her shoes into a pile on the carpet. She approached him and he stood perfectly still.  
  
"You're burning up, you need to take this off," she said, cautiously undoing the buttons on his coat. When he gave no sign that she had gone too far, invaded too much space, she pushed the heavy fabric down his arms. He removed his gloves and gave them to her, relieved that his skin could finally breathe. "Do you want something to drink? Ice water?"  
  
He shook his head, eyes darting around the room. He didn't know what he was looking for. Maybe the right words to say hidden somewhere on the walls, or a place to curl up and crawl into. He wished Susan was more calm, or more demanding. He needed someone to take him by the shoulders, shake him, steady him.  
  
"Are you hungry?" she asked, standing in front of her open refrigerator. Her eyes scanned the limited options - coffee creamer, two loose oranges, a paper bag containing half a club sandwich, and packets of ketchup. "I could order something in." Susan turned, leaning against the door to seal it shut. She apologized with her eyes, for her empty fridge and her inability to find the right words. "I'm really sorry."  
  
"It's okay," Carter said. "I'm not really hungry."  
  
Susan took a step forward. "No," she said, weary. "Not about the food. About today."  
  
There it was. The moment they had been anticipating, and dreading. Today - it was the elephant in the room. Carter hadn't yet decided if he wanted to stomp on it or push it under the bed.  
  
"Why are you apologizing?" he asked, not meaning to sound so defensive.  
  
Susan held her breath. She held her hands together, twisting her fingers. "Can we sit down?"  
  
He nodded, waiting for her to make a move. When she crossed into the other room and sat on the sofa, he did the same. He shifted so they were facing each other. The way the lamplight shone behind her, such a pale yellow, she looked so beautiful; shadows and light, soft and dark. Carter wanted to get lost in the softness of her hair, her eyes - two liquid pools of vibrant color and light. But all he could do was say, "Okay. We're sitting."  
  
This is what she was afraid of, him being angry with her. "You understand that I didn't know, right? You told me about when you were stabbed, but you never said his name. No one told me. I didn't know, John. And I would have warned you he was there if I had known."  
  
He looked down at the cushions, tracing the slight pattern in the cornflower blue material with the tips of his fingers. He thought about the first time they made love - an exploration, hands tracing lines and curves to discover, to understand.  
  
Carter had to shake his head, snap himself out of his daydream. "You don't have to apologize," he told her. He finally lifted his chin and met her eyes. "I know you had no idea. I should be apologizing for never telling you," he said, and she was shaking her head, "but that's my least favorite thing to do. Talking about it and him."  
  
Susan scooted forward, a large gap still between them. She let one leg hang over the edge of the couch while the other was curled in front of her. She played with a loose thread on her sock. "I imagine. And I don't blame you. It was a difficult situation. If I had known, I would have handled things so differently."  
  
"Wouldn't you have tried to protect me?" Carter asked, disdain in his voice. "That's what-"  
  
"No. no," she insisted. She was quiet for a moment. "I mean, I don't know. Does it really matter? That didn't happen. But what did happen."  
  
"What?"  
  
Susan lowered her head. She flattened her palm against her face, held it there, then swept upward and pushed the hair away from her eyes. "I'm so." Her voice trailed off. She mumbled something Carter couldn't decipher. Suddenly, her hands were braced over his thighs, the heat of her skin soaking through his slacks and sending waves of warmth through his body. "Are you okay? What are you thinking?"  
  
It was really so simple, he thought. He wasn't okay, and he was thinking about a knife in his back and Lucy being dead and rehab and the throbbing ache along his spine. But he couldn't say any of that, and he didn't know why. "It was."  
  
"Scary?" she prompted.  
  
Carter nodded. He closed his eyes when her hands pressed down on him. "I. uh. wish I knew he was out, you know? I wish I could have been prepared for the possibility of seeing him."  
  
"I'm sorry you weren't. I'm sorry the system doesn't work that way."  
  
"It used to be all I thought about. But then things happened, good things," he smiled then, hoping she understood it was her he spoke of, "and there was more to think about. It wasn't the most important thing anymore. I thought I had control over all of that."  
  
Susan swallowed hard, her throat parched. "Do you. have you wanted to."  
  
He understood. "No," Carter told her. He squeezed his eyes shut, tapped a fist against the side of his head. "That's a lie," he amended. "I didn't touch any pills or any alcohol, but the thought was there."  
  
She nodded, a knot twisting in the pit of her stomach. It was that all too familiar worry. "Maybe."  
  
"I should go to a meeting, I know," he said, confident. "But I didn't want to sit in a room full of strangers tonight." He could still feel the weight of her hands. He reached down, lifting her fingers like fragile petals. Carter pulled her hands up to his face, pressing them to his skin, bathing in their warmth. He kissed her soft knuckles and held their hands together at his chest. She looked scared. "Does this make you unsure of me?"  
  
Susan closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and felt his grip tense, insecure and anxious. "No. It makes me angry, that any of this ever happened. But it did. And I don't think you're weak." She held onto his hand. "I was worried that you were angry with me and you wouldn't let me help you. And I was afraid that you'd shut yourself off, to everyone. Everything. I went looking for you all over the place, mostly to ease myself because I'm so. selfish."  
  
"You're not."  
  
"I am," she nodded, almost laughing. "I'm not being a very good friend to you, John. I just wanted to find you and for you to talk to me so I could relax."  
  
He smiled. "That's not being selfish. You were worried about me, and you knew that if I was okay, you'd be okay." He lowered their hands, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "I'd be the same way."  
  
"This would all be so much easier if I just knew what to do. If I just knew what you needed."  
  
"Maybe," he said, tilting his head to the side. "But I don't know what I need, Susan. I was just afraid that if you knew I was still scared, that you. would."  
  
She moved her hands, laying them over his. "You think that because I found out you're not perfect, I'd run away? That I wouldn't care anymore?"  
  
"No, not really. I don't think you're like that. But I know you, and I know you might not want such a hassle. With everything you've been through, with your sister."  
  
Susan bit into her lip to keep it from trembling. She shifted on the couch to move closer to him, her legs hanging over the edge. "This isn't a hassle."  
  
"I just meant. I'm."  
  
"You're not perfect. But I'm not either."  
  
He smiled, genuine, light. "That could be disputed." He reached out, letting the side of his finger trail along her jaw.  
  
Susan closed her eyes, a shiver traveling the length of her spine. "Do you want to talk to me about Paul?" She tripped over the name, watching the way his eye involuntarily twitched. "About what you felt and. what you think is going to happen now?"  
  
Carter tilted his head back, thinking for a moment. Did he even have the answers to her questions? He faced her and said, "I don't know what else to say. I could talk about it for days, but I don't want to. Not now."  
  
"You should. Talk about it."  
  
He nodded. "I know. I will. I want to. I just. God, you were exactly what I needed." He sighed, relieved. "Your smile. Just knowing you're here."  
  
"You have no idea how happy I am that that means something to you, John. You're not running away, you're not hiding. I went looking for you in all the places I thought you might run away to, and here you were." She leaned forward, circling her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes and heard the cushions crunch; he sat up, leaned into her embrace. The distance between them closed and her head fit perfectly in the hollow of his shoulder.  
  
Carter breathed in her scent, tasted her comfort. He knew he could let go. That safety was promising, welcoming. The tears spilled from his eyes, soaking against her shirt and her neck. And she held him, her hand rubbing in wide loops over his back, her breath sounds soothing him.  
  
They pulled away slowly, his hands lingering around her waist and her fingers curled tightly around his shoulders. Susan tried to read the expression in his eyes, the bursts of color and life behind the tears and sadness. One hand drifted upward. Her fingers brushed across his cheek, smearing and absorbing the moisture slicking his face.  
  
Carter leaned forward, his lips seeking hers. Their kiss was slow, hungry. He ended it with a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth, and then pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm tired," he whispered, his voice rough.  
  
Susan moved closer to him. She slipped one arm around his shoulders, guiding him toward her. He fell into her embrace, nestling against her side. Her shoulder cushioned his head and she reached up, brushing her fingers through his hair. She could feel him calm down. He began to breathe easier, slower, softer. He knew he was welcomed, and secure.  
  
"John?" she spoke, barely making a sound. When he didn't answer, Susan carefully reached to the end of the sofa for a blanket. She draped the warm flannel over their legs, pulling it up close to his neck. She turned the switch on the lamp until they were bathed in darkness.  
  
Carter drifted in and out of sleep, momentarily startled by the sudden blackness. Then he felt her arms, her breathing in rhythm with his, and he knew he was safe. He came there to escape the noise and the torment, and she gave him a quiet retreat. A safe haven. A soft repose. 


End file.
